The Consequences of Reanimation
by phoenixstitch
Summary: What it's like to wake up alive--Buffy reactions and her return to her life. Based on spoler ideas. Will eventually be a B?s
1. Default Chapter

The Consequences to Reanimation 1/?  
by Vickey Brickle-Macky aka Phoenixstitch  
8/26/2001  
  
Summary: This is something that stuck in my head after reading possible spoilers for 6th season from the episodes being shot now –particularly some of the overheard possible dialogue from Spike on hearing that Buffy was alive, and no one had told him, along with speculations as to why no one had. This first part deals with Buffy coming back to life.   
  
Feedback on this would be appreciated as this is a different direction for me. vbmacky1@yahoo.com. My other Buffy stories, artwork, etc. can be found at In The Heart Of Darkness--http://fangslover.fanspace.com  
  
Rating—At least R/ NC-17 as this is going to be very dark, graphic, and chilling if I do this right. No sex, yet , but lots of strong language. This will be a B/S fic eventually.  
  
Disclaimers: The usuals to Joss, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century-Fox, and I guess UPN now. Just borrowing—honest.  
  
  
Unholy, sickly, green energy crackled around the two chanting figures within a circle painted with arcane runes atop an isolated grave. Around them the night was as dark as their purpose. It was a stygian night seemingly devoid of stars, a bleak darkness without even the slightest sliver of the yet to be new moon to mar the night's inky depths. It was a perfect setting for the powerful magicks that were to be worked upon this holy Sabbath's eve to wrench open the gates between known worlds, and uncounted dimensions. As the chanting in a language not heard in untold thousands of years increased in intensity the veils between time, and space thinned, becoming blurred as the suddenly appearing dark clouds gathered, and thickened, boiled, then churned sickeningly across the once empty sky. From nowhere, and everywhere a chill, unearthly icy wind rose, and howled like a live thing in seeming protest to the unnatural acts were being worked that night becoming a fitting counterpoint to their words, their strange magicks being woven.  
  
This was a spell made up of many spells, woven together, hopefully tightly integrated into a coherent whole because of the complex nature of what was needed to be done. Parts had come from Doc's books, some from Giles' secret library, others from mysterious dark sources that even Willow would not divulge where, or even how she had obtained them. The 'spell' had been created in secret over the months—for Willow had never stopped looking for a way to bring Buffy back. Even Tara did not know how badly her lover was obsessed with finding a means to bring her friend back. Only Dawn suspected that Willow had not given up the quest, and she secretly egged her on hoping that the red haired witch would succeed where she herself had failed when she had tried to bring back her mother.  
  
he others still grieved for the loss of Buffy, but as time went on, so did they with their daily lives believing whole heartedly that there would be no miracle resurrection. Buffy was really dead, and nothing was going to change that. Even Spike who had been so devastated by Buffy's death had finally accepted that she was gone for real. Now his only purpose was to protect Dawn, and the Scoobies, and to take Buffy's place as the Slayer with the help of the 'Buffybot' since no new slayer had been called, or had Faith been released to fight the demons that continued to flock to the Hellmouth. The Scoobies had not contacted the Council of Watchers, and the Watchers had not contacted them, so either they didn't know Buffy was truly dead, or were making their own secret plans to solve 'their slayer' problems since the only other active slayer was incarcerated, generally not that pliable, or did she, as Buffy had done, willingly answer to them.  
  
The two young women lost in the weavings of the powerful spell had told themselves they were doing this out of love, and grief. Their grief being so overwhelming they could not let what should rest, rest. They could not let go…accept what had happened…because in their minds it shouldn't have happened to begin with. Then there were the signs, the ancient prophecies newly discovered in books that had been recently purchased that said too that this was what needed to be done. What could be done to repair the mistake that had been made. What had been lost must be reborn... brought back to face an ever greater evil than had been seen, or fought before.  
  
A part of them knew that this was not right…that what they would make come back this night might not be right...that there would be –damage—maybe much damage after all these months to the physical body, and no doubt to the mind, and possibly the soul of the being they were resurrecting. And there would be a soul—that they were very determined to make sure it had. They knew with certainty that there would be a price to be paid on all sides for the deeds done this night—still the risk to them, and to whom they sought to have back among them was acceptable. The others would be mad, but they'd get over it as would the object of their spell—they hoped….  
  
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Excruciating pain shot through every nerve, jotting her back to awareness from the safe, and peaceful black void she had existed in. She wanted to go back—not to feel—again? She had felt, been able to feel –before? There had been a before? Some twinge of memory, an awareness of a not too long ago previous existence, pulled at her as she began to feel, began to be aware of everything—again.  
  
And it was an 'again', not a new beginning, but a pull back to what had been, her immediate past life, not new life unlived.  
  
Somehow she knew this was—wrong—very wrong. This should not be happening for any reason. Something was not right—this could not be—but it was, and she couldn't stop what was happening to her as her dead body woke up. What blood that remained within her started flowing again, somehow was multiplying. There was an explosion of new healthy white, and red blood cells… replacing the long dead cells within her clogged, and dried up arteries, and veins.  
  
It all hurt too much…pain…too much pain…feels like body…all of her… on fire…not fire…cold…pain…so much pain…. She was in agony---make it stop---please make it STOP! Her mind screamed, and screamed with the horrendous pain that was assaulting her every sense, her every nerve, awakening them—NO, NO, this was wrong---VERY WRONG!!! Stop it ----pleaseee!!!  
  
Somehow long disused organs began functioning…lungs, heart, kidneys, her brain as the new blood nourished, replenished…she felt more incredible, beyond agonizing pain as her body began to repair itself. Bones knitted, strengthen, her severe injuries were being fixed… closed, like they had never been.  
  
But her mind kept screaming stop! This is not right! Stop it! Stop it! The litany repeated over, and over in her aware, and conscious mind because she could not yet speak. She began to move, fight again the tide of sensations overwhelming her from all sides, the creeping sickening horror she was feeling with herself about herself as she became more, and more aware that she was—ALIVE!!! God—she was ALIVE---AGAIN!!!  
  
DEAD!! That was what she was—had been, should be—had to be! NO! Can't, shouldn't, she couldn't be ALIVE! IT WAS WRONG! VERY WRONG! Noooooo! Please---NO! Her mind screamed in its growing awareness of what was happening—going on, and TO her.  
  
I'm DEAD…I have to be dead…how long? A day…days, weeks, months---God, don't let it be years…her mind screamed. And screamed, over, and over until it calmed somehow…for a moment….  
  
But I died …I …I ..do I remember that…God…I do…NO! I remember. I shouldn't remember—why am I remembering?  
  
I remember a pulsating, twisting bright light…blue…white...colors in the air…I am running? I ran? Am I running to? Running away? But I…I HAVE TO?. Running to it…away from something…something I had to do…important that I go to it. Stop something? Reason why I had to go? Yes, stop it from getting bigger…before it destroyed…what? World…her world…all worlds…all dimensions—is that right? Her mind tried to gasp that thought, feeling, concept, and decided that it was right after all. She had saved the world….Again? Her going into the light had saved the world…stopped whatever horrible, terrifying thing had been happening.  
  
HOW?  
  
WHY?  
  
HUH?  
  
Images flashed before her mind's eyes: She ran …she remembered running, her heart both heavy, but sure if what she was doing because it had to be her that did it—not the vague other? There had been someone else that should have done this but—she had gone instead? Insisted on it to—what? Save a world—worlds? Was that right? That still wasn't clear—it still wasn't making sense.  
  
But she did remember that she had jumped out into empty air into a seemingly beyond bright light. Like falling into the sun except there was no heat, no cold, no awareness of hot, cold, or anything. Numbly she had felt herself fall through the thick, charged air while she was assaulted from all sides by massive jots of energy until she had passed out from the sheer pain of it, and knew nothing except the void— a letting herself go, being absorbed in it…into a sheer nothingness of self, with no awareness of her body, or who, or what she was, coming from within that nothingness to finally find a true sense of peace, safety, and even contentment within that absolute lack of being. Though there was something else something tugging at her—a longing, a wanting, a need of something so pure, and sweet, and wonderful that its loss was heart, and soul wrenching. Like she had lost something very important, but the memories of that other place were rapidly fading as her toehold on this plane became more, and more solid and real.  
  
Now she was being forced back into 'life', to live again—why? Why am I being brought back? Why, why can't I be left alone? She cried as the sadness of what she had lost—was losing tore at her consciousness too. The memories, and wanting of that sense of safety, the comfort, the peace of being nothing pulled at her, called her. She did not want to go back…no…not to life…her life…her—that life was only pain, and hurt. It was worse than this...she had done all she could…she was tired…oblivion …yes, that…that was…had been her reward for all she had endured. But now it was not…it was confusing…very confusing as her awareness grew, only to grow muddled again when she tried to think.  
  
She grew aware of her body again. It was aching, hurting her as each dead nerve became alive again. She was…breathing, or trying to breathe---it was hard, her lungs hurt, and….the air? There didn't seem to be that much of it! What was wrong with the air? It…felt…thick…foul…that's what it was…there was odd smells to wherever she was at…it reminded her of old, musty, dark cellar like smells…dead things…the scents somehow reminded her of vampires? Where did that come from? Yes, it smelled like a vampire's lair, or tomb.  
  
She began to panic, and she pushed her awareness to try and determine where she was and if she was in any danger. Her stiff limbs began to move finally and she regained use of her left hand using it to feel the slick cold material like satin surrounding her as far as she could reach in the very close confines of whatever she was lying in. That was the only clue to what surrounded her because her eyes were useless. She had finally be able to open them, but either she was totally blind, or there was no light…it was a black as a tomb…and as silent, she realized, as no sounds other than those she was making, and her harsh, ragged, strained breaths came to her sensitive ears. It was quiet—too quiet…like she was in some sort of box….? Like a coffin….NO! A COFFIN!!!! A TOMB!!!  
  
TOMB? OH, JESUS!! NO! I—I …I'm not where I think I am—AM I? Her mind started to scream as growing realization of where, and what was going on began to sink into her mind, and awareness. OHH, MY GOD—I AM BURIED –ALIVE!!!! Except I was dead, and now I'M NOT-- but they buried my dead body—I was dead…I was dead…. I really was dead….WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?  
  
MAGICK—has to be! This has to be Dawn's doing, or Willow's—if it's Spike—I am really going to stake his ass! Someone is using magick, and they've brought me back, or is trying to bring me back—that's what the hell is going on! Except no one thought to unbury me, and I'm still…buried—OHH SHIT!!!  
  
I'm fucking alive now, and no one knows it! Geez guys! You couldn't have at least undug me if you were going to do this shit! Idiots! Maybe they think it didn't work—maybe that's it? Maybe they tried and thought the spell they used was a dud because I didn't miraculous appear in front of them or something? Damn who knows with this group—if it is even the guys doing this—Geez, I hope it's them, and not some of sort of demon, or a bunch of damn vampires doing this—that'd be too much to take on top of this….  
  
If I am buried—HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE??? I hope this damn thing is wood and not metal—that would just too much if it's one of those metal caskets! And how deep? Please don't let it be six feet or more. But somehow I know it is. That'd be about right. And I know no one thought to put me in a nice dry mausoleum—couldn't be that bloody lucky. See I have been hanging around Spike too much—now I'm saying bloody—just great! How am I going to do this? CAN I DO IT?  
  
Her breathing was getting ragged and harsh in the close confines of her coffin. She knew if she didn't do something quick she was going to die all over again from suffocating due to lack of oxygen. She had to get out of there now! Pulling back as much as she could she rammed her fist upwards into the satin covering and prayed that she was strong enough to punch her way out, Then id she was lucky to get that far, all she had to do was dig, and dig, and hope that the ground was not that firmly packed…this was a nightmare and all she could do was pray that she would be able to get free of it.  
  
End Part 1  
  
Feedback?  



	2. part 2

The Consequences To Reanimation 

  
  
  
  


This part is being written after "Bargaining," and "After Life". I had started writing this after the 2 hour show, but didn´t get it done so now I am finishing up after making a few minor changes after seeing "After Life" so that things mesh a little more than what I had started. I have no VCR so most of this is all from memory and impressions, and a bit from the shooting script. The first part can be found at In The Heart Of Darkness—http://fangslover.0catch.com./Reanimation1.htm Feedback vbmacky1@yahoo.com 

Usual disclaimers apply. 

Part 2   
  


With the death of their leader, and a good chunk of their membership, the demon horde that had invaded Sunnydale decided to leave for easier pickings after the survivors told their fellows that the Slayer was really back, and 'not´ a robot. Some friendly persuasion from Spike also helped as he went around town, and did clean up work on the remnants of the bikers. Though most of his death dealing was out of frustration because he couldn´t find Dawn after she had run off from him when they had found the bot dismembered in a parking lot. He fought his way to the Magic Box in hopes that the girl had had enough sense to stay low and head for the shop. 

When he did make it there on his new bike, he was surprised to see that the shop had not been broken into. Every other shop had been vandalized, or destroyed, but miraculously not the refuge of the Scoobie gang. Probably because the shop was warded to the hilt inside, and out against demons, gods, or other nasties. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, but no one inside. 

"Watcher? Witches? Demon-girl? Harris? Anyone home?" he yelled standing in the middle of the store, looking around perplexed, and hearing nothing, not even a heartbeat. 

But they had been there earlier, Maybe a hour or so before. He could tell by the lingering scents in the air. Except there was an animal blood smell mixed in with the faint odors he was picking up with his scenes along with traces of heavy duty magicks. It was 'deer´—"what the hell?" he asked himself. "What did deer blood have to do with all this??" 

Then the magick traces were even stronger than what Willow had been using recently, and those were extremely potent and dangerous enough. "What the fuck had they all been doing? And where was the bloody Watcher? And why was he being kept out of the loop again?" he asked outloud angrily, still looking around, and trying to get a handle on what the others had been doing. Whatever it was it was clear that the Watcher wasn´t in on it anymore than he was. His scent was fainter than the others, older, many hours older. Something was very off now. 

And Dawn was still out there somewhere. He debated between staying, and waiting for the others, or continue his search. He decided to search, and try to find the girl. Maybe he´d run into her on the way. Some soddin´ baby-sitter he was. And if anything happened to her, he didn´t know what he´d do. He´d gladly meet the sunrise if the girl he had come to love as his own had been injured or hurt. He still couldn´t figure out why she had took off the way she had. 

Last he recalled seeing her do was that she was bending over the bot, and the bot had been talking with her. He still couldn´t stand to get to near the thing. It was just too bloody painful to deal with. The other night when he had brought up his body, and how sexy he was had done a real number to his head. Will was supposed to have gotten all that garbage out of the bot´s system. He guessed she had missed some stuff—still it didn´t make it any easier to handle hearing the bot say that, and remind him all too painfully of his mistakes and failings with Buffy and that Buffy would never have said that anyway to him even if she was alive. She was gone, and he was dealing with it as best he could, but seeing, and having to work with the robot made it that much harder to bear. 

He hadn´t been paying either of them that much attention as even if it was just a robot, watching it die was like watching Buffy die—again, so he had stayed away trying to see if any of the robots parts were salvageable. He had noted the thing talking to the kid, and figured it was telling Dawn goodbye for good. He was going to be there for the Nibblet when she broke down, but until then he´d give her space. But the next thing he knew she was hightailing it down the road moving so fast he was shocked, and could only yell at her. 

Seeing that she didn´t hear him, or was ignoring him for some reason he had to go follow her. It took a minute to get the bike going, but by that time she had disappeared. Riding along the streets, he couldn´t catch her scent on the wind which further frustrated him. He had to keep looking until he found her, otherwise the Scoobies would have his hide. He couldn´t figure out where any of them were. 

He drove around, and checked at Harris´ place, no one was there, or had been there for a while since that morning. The same with the Watcher´s place. Since the witches had moved into Buffy´s house to take care of Dawn, he headed there hoping somehow everyone had made it safely there. He drove by the Magic Box one more time. No one had been back since he had been in so he headed towards the house. 

He passed several cop, cars and ambulances as well as fire trucks. He was amused in a grim way that the cops were finally out, along with the other civil authorities—now that there wasn´t anything for them do except cleanup work. And just seeing the damage as he rode through the streets made him upset that the damned idiots had hid like they always did when ever the supernatural nasties reared their heads for a bit of fun and mayhem. Everyone had gotten complacent since Buffy had been around to do damage control, and with the bot and the Scoobies taking up the slack the police hadn´t known any difference. It was going to get even grimmer now since he knew by just looking at the robot torn to pieces on the ground that it was beyond any quick repair jobs by Willow. Now what were they going to do? And not just because of the bot´s slaying part. 

What was little bit going to do with no Buffy presence in their house? The witches could only do so much, and Willow still hadn´t been able to prefect her 'glamour´ spell to fool people yet except for brief periods of time. It was only a matter of time until the proverbial shit hit the fan for all of them, but the real victim in all of this was going to be the Nibblet. He might just have to grab her, and do a run away from Sunnyhell just to keep her safe. That might be the only choice left to keep the girl safe, and to keep his promise to Buffy which he would keep—if he could find the soddin´ idiot girl. Ohh, they were going to have a bloody long talk when he did find her. 

So far he had been going along with Will, and the Watcher to try the bot, and to act like everything was normal. Hell, they´d even buried Buffy where they thought no one would come across her grave in the woods outside of town. But it boiled down to he was dealing with bloody kids who thought they knew what they were doing. Let´s face it, none of the lot was even twenty-one yet, outside of the Watcher. The man had been bloody useless because of his grief, and had gone along with anything Willow came up with for the whole bunch of them to do. Though Spike had been damned surprised that the Watcher hadn´t tried to get legal custody of the girl. The only answer he had gotten on that score was that no one wanted to make waves, or let the authorities know anything had changed. So he had shut his mouth, and stayed out of all the major decision making as much as he could. 

The witches had moved into to Joyce´s old bedroom, and made themselves at home. It seemed the only logical thing to do. Dawn couldn´t live by herself, and the neighbors knew Joyce was dead, and were used to seeing Buffy´s friends in, and out all the time. Dawn had explained to anyone that asked that the girls had moved in to help with the bills, and because they had the space anyway, and it was cheaper than them living on campus at the dorms. Somehow Willow was able to cover Buffy´s being gone with social services, and Mr. Summers who finally decided to call two months after Buffy´s death, and he began sending checks to help out with a slight magical push from Willow. She didn´t tell the group she had used a glamour of sorts to change her voice and had pretended to be Buffy to her father. It had worked and that was all Willow cared about, results. Once the bot was up and running its appearance wandering around the town completed the illusion that all was fine in the Summer´s household. 

Spike did show up every day, and check on Dawn, and watched her when the others were out if she wasn´t over at one of her friend´s homes instead. He even had a spot in the basement under the stairs to crash if he got caught at the house after sunrise, and couldn´t make it back to his crypt. He had been fully accepted into the group, more than he had realized. And it had felt bloody good to be accepted finally as an equal among them. 

Though lately they had all been odd, talking in cryptic tones then shutting up whenever he, Giles, or Dawn were around, and more heavily distracted, worried even than usual too. There was something up but he could figure out what yet. Then there was all this talk about Giles leaving. The Watcher was going to sell out to Anya who had not only managed to take her salary then double, triple, and he wasn´t sure what else with investments and stock trading online. Demon girl was a bloody genius when it came to money because of her of not having any with to equated to being helpless, powerless in the human world. 

Snapping his thoughts back to the present, Spike did note that the tower that the fight with Glory had been on had collasped. Good, it had been a bloody painful reminder of his failure, and their loss. He saw it collapsing in his rearview mirror as he left the center of town heading for Buffy´s. He stopped the bike, and watched the rest of the structure fall from a couple of blocks away, and debated whether to go check it out, or go on. For a couple of seconds he felt that maybe the Nibblet might have gone there, but then he shook off the thoughts because he couldn´t come up with a good reason for her to do so. That was the last place any of them wanted to be around. Still he kept feeling her in that direction, so he turned the bike around, and went to check it out. 

He pulled up, and stopped, sniffing the air outside of the fence. There was a scent there of her, but it was faint. But she had been here after all. And there was another scent as well, odd, yet familiar, but not quite right. Not demon, though not entirely human either, almost in an odd way like Buffy smelled but that couldn´t be right. She was dead, gone, buried. Still the strange, yet familiar scent bothered him, and worried him. He got off the bike, and started looking around the site just be sure Dawn wasn´t still here, or injured. What his senses told him was not good. She had been here, and she had been on the damned thing as it was collapsing, but somehow had managed to land safety along with the other unknown person with her. Then the two had left. He followed for several blocks on foot then lost them. He cussed as he walked back to his bike, and revved it up. It looked like she was either heading home, or to the magic Box and he was running out of soddin´ time. On the horizon the eastern sky was beginning to lighten. He had to find the girl and know she was safe even if he did burn up looking for her. He headed for the house and prayed she was there safe and sound. 

What was surprising him that he hadn´t heard a telepathic peep out of Willow, or the other witch all night. Usually they checked in a lot with him during a night. What he sensed on her end was a deliberate block like she was trying to not contact him for some reason. He tried calling her in his head, but there was nothing. A big black nothing like a wall. But it wasn´t a bad wall. He just couldn´t make out anything going on behind it. He´d worry later what that meant as he wove his bike around still burning cars, and wreckage on the normal quiet streets of Sunnydale. 

Across town Dawn, and Buffy had made their way slowly back to Buffy´s house also avoiding the local cops. Dawn had seen Spike looking for her, but she had deliberately hid herself, and Buffy, being not ready to deal with him because she knew she was going to be in deep trouble, and Buffy wasn´t barely dealing with her. Gradually, Buffy was getting back her memories, and awareness, though her sight, and hearing were still bad. 

Finally they arrived at their house which hadn´t suffered the fate of the other houses in the neighborhood. But Buffy stood numbly outside looking up at it not recognizing it.. 

"Home?" Buffy asked Dawn still confused when they came up the walkway. 

"Yeah, this is our home, Buffy, don´t you remember?" the girl asked. 

Buffy shook her head, "No. I—can´t remember," she replied sadly as they got on the porch. 

"Come on, it´s safe," Dawn reassured her leading her inside. 

"You changed things," Buffy said looking around, noticing. "Things are different." Buffy frowns when she sees the dinning room and the computer equipment set up on the end of the table. 

"Yeah, a little. Willow and Tara moved in to take care of me," Dawn explained as she followed the exploring Buffy from room to room, worrying about her unhappy expression, and lack of enthusiasm for anything as well as catching the angry undertones when she did speak, or comment on anything. It was clear to Buffy that Willow and Tara had made themselves very much at home in 'her´ home. 

Buffy allowed Dawn to take her upstairs, and helped her change out of her funeral outfit. Obediently, Buffy took a shower, and got the dirt washed off her still numb feeling body, and out of her longer hair, but she felt far from clean. She moved robot like still, having to be helped, or prodded into doing things like putting her clothes on, drying, and fixing her hair. Like a zombie she stood while Dawn dressed her, all the while staring, unseeing, her vision focused elsewhere while her face, and eyes radiated with a mixture of anger, and deep sorrow that her sister couldn´t figure out. Only Dawn´s joy in having her back, and her comforting words seem to bring Buffy back to her present surroundings, and dissipate her grim mood. 

Dawn finally noticed Buffy´s hands, and tried to look at them, but Buffy quickly hid them behind her back, ashamed. It was clear that the young woman didn´t want to be fussed over anymore, or have to explain them, but they do need to be taken care of. Dawn is about ready to when a sudden loud noise from downstairs startles and frightens both of them, and they realize it is the sound of the front door opening. Buffy goes into defensive mode immediately, all her senses on alert to deal with the intruder. Then they hear Spike yelling angrily asking Dawn if she is home. 

"I´m up here, Spike!" Dawn yells back, and runs down the stairs to go meet him before he charges up, and scares the already skittish Buffy. 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs ready to go up, Spike says, "Thank God! You scared me to death—or more to death. I could tear your head off and drink from your brain stem for what you did!" he rants up at her not understanding why she is smiling. 

Dawn comes down the steps knowing she fully deserves his anger big time for her stunt of taking off without a word to him, but she can explain. "Spike, look who´s here," Dawn said simply with a slight smile, looking back over her shoulder, and moving aside so Spike can see Buffy. 

"So it´s the bot. I´ve seen her already. What about it…," and his words trail off as he looks more closely, and almost passes out when he realizes it´s not the bot, but is the real Buffy—alive. 

"It´s Buffy, Spike. She´s back," Dawn says happily. 

He stares up at Buffy speechless for once looking her over. Already he can tell she is human, not a vampire, but there is still something off that he can´t put his finger on yet. She looks so sad, and lost, and not a little angry too, but not at him, he realizes, but more like she´s not real happy to be back. Though that confuses him as he is so happy to see her, but he senses that happy is not what she needs, calm is, no pressure, so he holds his joy back waiting to see what she wants to do. He can only look at her in awe, and hope that this isn´t a dream. But she´s back, really back, alive, breathing, blood pumping through her veins, and then he catches the scent of her blood, and he focuses on the source. Then his mind snaps to awareness of how she had to brought back. 

"What did you do?" Spike accuses Dawn angrily. 

She looks confused, hurt. "Me? I didn´t do a thing? I just found her. I don´t know how she got back," she tells him truthfully. 

Then he sees Buffy´s torn up hands which she tries to hide behind her back again. His eyes open in shocked alarm, then in grim understanding of why her hands are that way. There is a momentary flash of anger, but not at her, but for whoever did this to her, and what she had had to go through to dig her way out of her grave. They lock eyes, and he knows exactly what happened, and how very shaken she is by the experience. There will be hell to pay for this, and he´s got a good idea of who might be responsible. "She clawed her way out the coffin," he tells Dawn whose eyes widen in shock and horror for Buffy. 

Buffy nods, "That's what I...had to do," she says her eyes meeting his briefly before she looks down again ashamed. 

He looks at her, understanding, and for a moment he's smiling. But then he shakes it off. "Come, luv, let´s get you taken care of," he says as she slowly comes the final few steps down the stairs. 

Spike starts to touch her, to guide her to the dining room to find a place to sit, but then stops short of actually touching her. He wants to so badly, but he´s also afraid, and scared to. That if he does touch she´s either bolt, or she won´t be real after all. And once he does finally hold her he´ll never want to let her go again, and he´ll break down and cry, and that would freak her out more, he´s afraid. She lets him take her hands, and they sit down in the chairs by the dining room table. 

"Go get the mercurochrome, and the bandages," Spike tells Dawn, and she runs to do it. Once she is on her way Spike turns back to Buffy, very conscious of the fact that she is still letting him hold her small warm hands in his. "It is really you," he says finally, meeting her pain filled eyes. 

"Yeah, I guess," she replies with an indifferent shrug, her voice still flat sounding as she lowers her eyes uncomfortably. 

"I didn´t know. I had nothing to do with this," he tells her feeling her tremble. 

"I know. You would have been there if you had known…to stop this…from happening." 

"Probably. Or if I couldn´t have…been there to help you…so you wouldn´t have had to do this," he said fighting back his tears as he tenderly holds up her hands. "Buff, I am so sorry…you had to go through this…being living and all. I was a vampire…and it was bloody bad enough." 

"Now we have something in common," she sighs bitterly. Her expression is hollow, still haunted by the terrors she has gone through since awakening. 

"That´s not anything what I would want us to have in common. You could have bloody died all over again, and no one would have known. If you hadn´t had your slayer strength… . I don´t want to even think what could have happened," he choked back his tears, not wanting to start sobbing in front of her. 

"I woke up in the dark…no air…hard to breathe, and then I knew. I knew, Spike…I was alive again and I had been dead. I remember dying…jumping into the light…the pain…then it was gone…and…." She swallowed, getting too emotional from her memories, not wanting to go on, and tell him the rest. "They brought me back…why? I—I didn´t want this," she confessed, trying to control her inner anger. 

Spike does understand her more than he wants to. He sighs inwardly wanting to say something supportive, but he can´t, not really. He had awoken changed, and powerful from the weakling he had been. Whereas she was physically unchanged, but more damaged, he sensed mentally, and emotionally, than she had been. "I don´t know, luv. We all missed you, but I didn´t know they were going to do this. It´s wrong." 

Buffy wants to agree with him, but hesitates to say so because he, like Dawn, is so happy she´s back. She never really noticed how much what he was feeling could be seen in the depths of his startling blue eyes. He still loved her. He hadn´t stopped caring with her death. She is his focus, his reason for being, along with her sister. They are his world. But his love, and happiness are making her uncomfortable, and she lowers her eyes away from his intense scrutiny. "How long?" Buffy asks him, trying to verve the subject away a little from the rightness, or wrongness of her resurrection.. 

"One hundred and forty-seven days, it would have been one hundred, and forty-eight today," he told her. "How long as it been for you?" 

"Longer," she says torn between wanting, and not wanting to say more when the gang bursts in loudly and noisely looking for both Dawn, and Buffy. 

Buffy jumps back from him afraid, and as the gang comes rushing towards her in mass. Spike jumps up away from her, unsure what to do, but not before seeing how lost, and frightened she is. Her eyes beg him to stay, but he can´t as her well meaning friends thrust themselves forcibly in between them. Crowding around her, crowding him out, they are all talking at once, the intensity of their emotions deafening in the once quiet room. He cannot help her. He cannot protect her. He has failed again in his mind. Dawn looks to him for help as Buffy´s friends hover anxiously around the cowed girl sitting on the chair on seeming display. But he has already turned away unable to face them either. Wrapped in his own mixture of pain, rage, and bitter happiness, he bolts out the door into the night once again the outsider, no longer part of those he had just began to consider friends himself. 

Since Buffy is too shaken, and Spike has left without a word, Dawn yells at Buffy´s four friends, "Back Off! Leave Her Alone!" They look back at the teenage girl in shock for a moment, but then go right back to trying to talk to Buffy. 

"What did you do?" Dawn yells at Willow her voice trembling with emotion. 

Willow looks back at her surprised at her anger. "It was a spell." 

Dawn is spooked. "Is she all right?" she asks. 

Anya breaks in to ask "what it was like where Buffy was?" 

Buffy can't talk about it, and looks at Anya appalled that she´d even ask, and cringes back in her chair away from them all. 

Xander to break the growing tension in the room wants to get her something. "Pizza!" 

Everybody likes that idea, and they start clamoring again. 

Dawn tells them again to "back off!" her tone saying she means it now. 

Willow says "yes, they need to be quiet and let Buffy tell them what she needs." 

They all look at Buffy anxious and worried. Buffy says, "I just need to sleep." 

"Yeah," Anya says, "Jet lag from hell is...jet lag from hell." 

Buffy goes upstairs. 

Willow, trying to be reassuring, tells everyone that," Buffy is fine, just fine. She used to go to bed all the time!" she says. 

Xander and Anya leave. Anya thinks something went wrong and that Buffy isn't "right." 

They find Spike leaning against his tree, his back to them. His eyes are closed, and he looks haggard. He's holding very still, as though he's afraid to move. When he hears them, though, he wipes away   
tears so they won't see he's been crying. 

Xander says, "I hope you're not going to start your little obsession now that she's around again." 

Spike grabs him and slams him against the tree. The chip doesn't zap him though Xander´s eyes widen in shock from Spike being able to do it. Either it's stopped working, or he didn't intend to hurt Xander. 

"You didn't tell me," he says, his voice ragged. "You brought her back and -you didn't tell me!!" 

"Well, now you know," Xander says, snidely. 

Spike looks at him. The hurt is rolling off him in waves. "I worked beside you -all summer---." 

Xander seems to get how much this means to Spike. "We didn't tell you," he says, sincerely trying to explain now. "It was just... We didn't, okay?" 

Spike lets him go, roughly. "Listen," he says, "I figured it out." Spike is beyond upset, as he tries to put the situation into words that the thick kid can understand. here. "Maybe you haven't, but I have. Willow 'knew´ there was a chance that she'd come back...wrong. So wrong that you'd..." He breaks   
off, his voice cracking. "So wrong that she'd have to get rid of what came back. And I wouldn't let her." He gestures toward the house. "Any part of that was Buffy, and I wouldn't let her. 'That's´ why she shut me out." Spike rationalizes. 

Xander is appalled. "What are you talking about? Willow wouldn't do that!" 

Spike steps back. "Ohhhhh, wouldn't she?" he asks. How blind is this kid? He wonders looking at him and sees that unfortunately the kid is, especially when it comes to magick he trust Willow completely as do the others he realizes. And the blonde witch hasn´t been quite right or that questioning of things since she had her brain sucked by Glory and restored by Willow. Even the ex-demon should have known better than to do this and he casts a glance at her and sees she did know, but wasn´t going to say anything. God, this is a stupid lot, he thinks in disgust. And where is the soddin Watcher when you need him? Knowing that Giles is going to ream Willow out right and proper when he does hear what has happened. The witch is going to see Ripper up close. 

"Look," Xander says, taking the offensive so he doesn't have to think about this, "you're just covering. Look me in the eye and tell me that when you saw Buffy it wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence." 

Spike looks at him for a long moment, but doesn't say anything. He turns, heads for his new bike parked at the curb. "That's the thing about magic," he says, not looking at Xander. "There's always consequences. ALWAYS." He roars off on the bike wanting to get away from these idiot children, but unhappy to leave Buffy to their 'tender´ care. 

As he speeds towards his crypt he knows they have no idea what they have done to their friend, and if they do they are covering in heavy denial. What he can´t understand is why weren´t the soddin´ lot there to help her? What the same hell happened? They did the spell, why didn´t they realize that Buffy would be in her coffin still if they brought her back? Why hadn´t dug her out? And what kind of spell was it? He had smelt the deer´s blood on Willow along with demon´s, and her own along with the tang of ancient magicks. 

He would bet that the Rupert had no idea what Willow had been up to. How long had they been planning this-- months? And he and Rupert hadn´t caught on at all? God, he really was losing his touch. Usually he knew before anyone what the Scoobies were up to. But yeah, the Witch had kept him, and the Watcher pretty distracted all summer long fighting demons, and keeping track of Dawn. 

But Buffy was alive! He had to keep telling himself. He had felt her warm flesh, felt her pulse, and smelt the tang of her blood on the air. He had heard her breath, seen her chest rise and fall, and she had talked. But her eyes—her eyes were haunted, lost. She was in deep pain from her experiences whether it was from where she had been, or from the trauma of awaking inside a coffin alive after being dead, and knowing she had died too. 

He remembered his own awakening in his coffin. That kind of thing never left you—you´re awakening. Waking up in the dark, alone---the absolute quiet all around you except for your movements. Then you began to hear the worms crawling through the ground around you trying to find their way in to where you lay helpless and frightened. Then you hear the muffled sounds from far, far above. It dawns on you where you are and how you must have got there. But you died. And this isn´t heaven, and you´re not too sure if this is hell either. You´re awake, and aware when you shouldn´t be. You begin to hyperventilate in panic then realize that you don´t have to breath, but you´re still freaking all the same. You frantically begin tearing at the satin not two inches above you, and reach the hard wooden surface that is the lid of the coffin you´re in. Your fingernails scrap against it, digging deep furrows, and you feel your fingers that have become frantic claws, and your sore knuckles beginning to bleed. The smell your own blood in the close confines of the space you are trapped in sets off a hunger you didn´t know you had within you, and adds fuel to your growing rage and fear. You pound, smash your fists against the wood, and you hear the wood begin to split, and crack, the sounds deafening to your sensitive ears. Then you´re through as your fist finally goes all the way through the top, and dirt falls down upon you in a thick, cold, musty avalanche covering your eyes, filling your mouth, and you try to scream, and can´t because it´s covering you, choking you. This makes you more frantic to escape, and you make the opening larger, and fight the tide of dirt pouring in on you, surrounding you in its clammy embrace, making it hard to move, but you fight with the strength born out of your fears of being forever trapped in this small, stygian space. Somehow you squeeze out of the hole you have made while digging upward through the dirt that mercifully hasn´t yet become hard packed by rain or times passage. You feel like a worm, a mole as you dig with bleeding, dirty hands ever upward to what you hope is the surface, to the open sky, to freedom. You break through after what seems like endless hours as time has lost all meaning because you are so focused on your goal. Your strength almost exhausted you climb out of the hole you have made and lay weakly on the ground to stare into the blessed sight of a full moon in a velvet sky. Behind you hear delighted feminine giggling, and an answering masculine rumble and you turn to meet your new family who welcome you into your new unexpected life. 

So where had her friends been? Where had been those who supposedly cared, and loved her? "God, Buffy, how could they have done that to you?" he cried, fighting his tears, and pain for her as he parked his bike next to the crypt, and got off already feeling the prickling on the just risen sun on his back. He opened the crypt door, and pushing the bike inside, and put it by one side of the door. Leaving it out would be an invitation for someone to steal it thinking it was abandoned. He closed the door, not bothering to lock it. Staggering wearily over to his chair he collapsed, and reached for the bottle of Jack he had left sitting on the floor by the end table. He took two long slugs of it ignoring the burning of the liquor as it went down. He needed the pain, welcomed it. 

Spike didn´t bother to turn the television on. He didn´t want the noise, or its insipid cheeriness to disturb his raging thoughts as he got himself thoroughly plastered until he was finally able to pass out, and for a time forget everything. But the thought that his golden angel had been returned to him, and this time he wasn´t going to screw up this chance they had both been given kept him awake. He decided that whatever she needed he would gladly give her. Whether it was space, time, anything just as long as she was happy, and well. But he also knew that her being over this was going to be a long time coming. They really didn´t know the sheer horror of her experience, and he suspected that she wouldn´t tell them what she really had gone through unless they pushed her. And that mattered was she was back. She was alive! His love was really alive, and with that thought a sad smile came to his mouth, and he did finally go to sleep to dream of her, and how he hoped it would be between them. 

End Part 2. 

  


Vickey Brickle-Macky @ vbmacky1@yahoo.com 

  
  
  
  



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